The evolution of
courtship in Manhattan over the last decade is like the evolution of
penmanship since the Internet became mainstream: gracious letters
have been replaced by keyboard symbols, and sophisticated,
nuanced romances have been synthesized to trivial,
sprinting pursuits. Dating roles of sexes are becoming less
distinguished and “talking points” of good old
battlefield lines are no longer relevant: harems, polygamy,
witch-hunting, and pre-suffrage feel so distant and quirky, and
feminism so passé, that men almost wish women would say
something about “glass ceilings” or “wage
inequality.” We have entered the new dawn of courtship on the
island where ladies can’t find gentlemen and gentlemen don’t
believe in ladies.

We are enjoying every
bite of our delicious meal at a neighborhood café, peering
into each other’s eyes, holding hands, and it feels great. The
beginning of the end of summer cools the energy and we cherish few
fleeting moments. We look great with each other, we have so much in
common, the sex is juicy and tender, and we’ll probably never
see each other again after one last night. I like Rachel and I’m
hoping she won’t feel hurt after we are over. I’m also
hoping that she doesn’t see pity in my eyes while I’m
debating with myself whether she has a right to feel misled. “I
told her right upfront that I was not looking for anything serious.
Her eyes were hurting, but she played it cool.” The circle of
corruption continued…

I met Rachel two months
earlier at CVS. I had just moved into my new bachelor-ready digs and
was enjoying a lazy Monday morning discovering the neighborhood and
buying the men’s basics: shaving cream, hair gel, and condoms.
She saw me looking at hair gels and walked by, then came back into my
isle, looking lost and confused. She was very tall with a smoking
body, but at that moment she seemed to be the most vulnerable little
girl on the island. The predator blood rushed in and I walked toward
her, waiting for eye contact. She looked up at me with a virgin
anxiety; her eyes spoke: “Talk to me! I spent another lousy
weekend alone! I am amazing and I am yearning to be romanced,
courted, charmed by my equal who protects and takes care of me, who
is fun and outrageous, who loves children and dogs, and is willing to
go all the way… I am so ready for such a man!...” I
should have passed by, she did not look like a “player,”
so it was not fair to her, but my empathy cheated on me with my
compassion a long, long time ago. So, I said, “Hi.”